


fineshrine

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, after the alphas and the betas have met, first time smooching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2013-01-09
Packaged: 2017-11-24 07:49:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/632109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>john and dave go grist hunting in a cave. smooching follows.</p>
<p>warning for scar-talk</p>
            </blockquote>





	fineshrine

**Author's Note:**

> hi i dont ever write fic im sorry im really bad i literally havent written anything in like 3 years and this sucks bye
> 
> bullshit musicspiration: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xqw4wo8vdY8

“Does she even know where the fuck we are?”

“Hmm. Probably...?” he raises his eyebrows in some kind of intense concentration. You think it makes him look like a tool. Correction, he is a tool.

You frequently remind him of this and now is no exception. “John, you're a tool.”

He makes this godawful shit eating grin and you feel like rolling your eyes. He snorts.

“Seriously though, she probably knows where we are. It’s cool.” he pauses. “What did we have to do again?”

“We asked Jade to send us to LOWAS to go find some stupid ass monsters and beat the shit out of them.”

“Oh yeah. Man how did those guys even get as far as they did? They’re lucky we can torrent our experience and gristy stuff, I mean their monsters are really real-”

“Are you just going to completely ignore the fact that were standing knee-deep in some kind of lake?”

“Yes.”

You set your jaw. He shrugs helplessly.

Both of you are in a cave, and a big one at that. The ceiling stretches up, and caverns yawn to either side of you. Everything is ridiculously dark beside the water, which apparently glows. Because that is a thing that water does.

It’s all aqua blue and black and your legs and best fucking converse are deep in fucking shitty-ass cave water and you are going to fucking murder Harley.

You must have let your dissatisfaction show - of course you did you're blaring it like a foghorn and it’s a goddamn miracle Egbert’s even picking up on it he doesn’t pick up on anything - because his face falls a bit. You feel a bit bad about it until you get a poke to the skull - with love from your nervous system - about how freaking cold the water is and you suddenly don’t feel bad anymore.

“Can we just get the hell out of this water and then continue this smalltalk somewhere drier or something,”

“Why? The coolkid lost his swag?”

“Egbert if you use the word “”swag”” unironically ever again I am disowning you. You will be thrown out and lain on the doorstep of a family with six other obnoxious kids in a twisted and broken home with a single mother and forced to spend the rest of your days being constantly reminded of your failures in life.”

“Rude, Dave. My kokoro is brokoro.”

“Oh my god are you even serious literally my lifes biggest regret is letting you and Dirk hit it off.”

“What!! I am not flirting with him!!”

“You so are man and it’s not even funny what the hell happened to “not a homgko!!! egads!!!””

“Dave jesus christ,” he says and he genuinely looks pissed off with you? No you don’t know either.

“Wait holy shit you’re serious you true to god are swooning for my alternate universe kid dad-bros D aren’t you?”

“No ugh,” and he fucking groans and looks really tired and you back off.

Ignoring his reaction you rapidly change topic. “Let’s just get on dry land or something.”

“Yeah.” he says and looks around a bit. His windsock hoodie thing sloshes around in the water a bit. Your cape is starting to wear down from the weight of the water. “Over there man,” and he points to a small beach thing not too far.

“Sweet.” you say and you move in that vague direction. It’s harder than it looks.

He follows you in silence. There is this strange tension in the air you're not that familiar with - Egbert’s your bro and theres never really been these kind of gaps before. Conversation rolls as smooth as a milkshake that you could really go for right now jesus christ you're hungry why the fuck didn't you eat breakfast you goddamn idiot.

Just the noise of water dripping and moving softly and maybe some faint humming? nah. You think it would be pretty cool to take some photos. Tops to ‘bert’s planet for looking rad as hell.

There’s a loud splash behind you and you forget that there are things that can kill you here and shit fuck where the hell is John

He’s face-down in the water.

 He grunts and makes to get up; you offer him a hand which he refuses moodily.

“Foot slipped,” he mumbles. You nod sincerely in understanding. Hell if you know how you're supposed to “nod sincerely”, but you pull it off pretty damn well. He eyes you a wordless thanks.

You keep walking but when you reach the shore beach pebbly rock thing John’s still dripping. He shivers a bit.

You wonder about asking him if he’s got any spare clothes on him. You realise how fucking dumb that would sound I mean who the hell carries around extra god clothes can you imagine going to the driers with them? Like all, “yo dude can you wash my godly robes behold my godly robes,” Or like, doing that stereotypical collage shit of washing your clothes and waiting in the drier room in your underpants. Your mind presents yourself with an image of John in nothing but his underwear - ghostbusters boxers - and you shimmy that thought out as fast as it came in with thoughts of smuppets.

You do not walk to even think about that. Those thoughts are behind you and locked away with the memories of lonely nights on a meteor with only aliens and hormones for company.

Momentarily distracted by your stupid ass thought tracks you return your attention to the real world and find John taking off his hood. Apparently you have similar ideas about wet clothes and you're glad he’s not being an idiot. He captchalogues it into his sylladex gently and his face is a literal deadpan as he starts to remove his shirt, water trickling through his hands.

You look away.

“Do you uh,” he trails off. You look at him with this permission and are very glad he’s nothing like your sister in the mindreading department. “...have any spare shirts or something I’m not too keen on, um, freezing my ass off,”

He swallows and your eye follows his adams apple and down his chest.

There’s a scar and you feel the question mark emblazon itself onto your face.

Its pale in comparison to his dark skin; a single white line running down his sternum. You know Jack stabbed him and that's how he hit the tier but it’s a pretty neat scar and you're actually quite impressed at the neatness of it. It’s prettier than yours are.

You are checking out John’s scar. You are checking out John. Who is shirtless and damp in front of you and fucking blushing like a virgin and wait he is and so are you and no you are really not going to think about this jesus h christ

He coughs and you realise you haven’t answered his question and you're just staring at him and if you thought it was awkward before you were dead wrong because this is about as awkward as it gets and that's saying something.

“Um yeah, god, uh yeah, wait, no wait what did you ask? um, fuck,” you stammer out and shit you've really fucked up you're going to crawl off into a hole and commit ritualistic suicide.

He just looks at you and you are unable to tell what the hell he’s thinking.

You close your eyes for a small moment, let out a small breath you didn't know you had been holding, and take off your cape.

He pulls that confused expression from earlier and you start to laugh. Smooth moves.

You tug off both your shirts in one sweep and throw them at his face and you wish you could’ve shown him his expression. He clutches them in his hands and stares at you completely dumbfounded.

He cracks one of the infamous Egbertian Grins which falls as fast as Sweet Bro.

“Shit,” he says quietly and you're pretty sure he didn't intend to vocalise that. He’s looking at your scars and you're aware he’s looking at your scars and if you're honest you're not comfortable with that but you guess it’s fair payment.

Your torso is crisscrossed with scars from fighting Bro as a kid and from the various injuries the alpha Dave (i.e. you) (for now) has attained. Sometimes you wish they didn’t exist and at other times you're hella proud of them and wish you had a scar from every single one of your deaths. You realise that if that were the case you would be almost as pale as Kanaya.

John steps forward a bit and your shoulders tense.

You really have no idea what's going on and you feel like saying something and cracking a joke but you don’t want to for fear of interrupting and also because you're scared this is another dream I mean hell it sure fucking feels like it and what the hell is he doing

He’s faintly tracing a scar on the top of your left lung and you can feel yourself flinching and a hammering in your ears and this is very far from cool and very far from “no homo”.

He’s really close oh my god

Your lips are so dry and you gently moisten them and you hope that didn't come off as anything jesus but he’s torn his eyes off your chest and he’s looking at you with that expression you can’t fathom and your heart is literally fluttering like a thirteen year olds at a Justin Beiber concert and you don’t know what the hell is going on.

He runs his hand up another scar which goes from your collarbone to your sternomastoid and you feel yourself shiver and he notices and god shit fuck this is ridiculous

You bark out a really nervous laugh and look to your left over his shoulder and that's that.

He snaps out of it and blinks rapidly and in your peripheral vision you can see the colour rising to his face as he starts to stammer out an apology. He removes his hands as fast as greased fucking lightning and he’s blabbering and blabbering and for gods sake just shut-

and you're kissing him why the hell did you decide to do that Mr Dave Elizabeth Strider we need to have words.

Your brain is literally face palming repeatedly because he’s completely frozen and so are you and no you need to correct yourself again those two moments were nothing this is blatantly the most fucking awkward why isn’t he doing anything you thought that? no? yes? what?

and then he moves and tries to kiss you back and your glasses clack together and you feel like sinking to the floor and sobbing this is so goddamn embarrassing.

He breaks away from you and you begin to say something and he just tears off your shades and his glasses and puts them in his fucking sylladex and he’s on you and this time Egbert means business.

He cups your cheeks with both hands and full on smooches you and is this supposed to be romantic because it’s just shitty he doesn’t know how to kiss at all. In his defence you're not great either but you know a bit from tz. His stupid buckteeth are grinding sloppily into your lips and this really is terrible.

But there’s this kind of sickeningly light feeling in your chest that makes you want to yell with joy and is what keeps you attached to his pufferfish lips and you need to remove this thing from your chest cavity you're 100% certain it’s a parasite sucking on your soul and it’s not the only thing sucking and wow this is gross.

He seems to notice you're not really responding and you figure now is your chance to back out of this but instead you kiss him back so hard and you're wrapping your hands around his torso and you are an idiot.

You suddenly get hit by a wave of “wow I like John a lot and I completely forgot holy shit” and then your mind kind of goes numb and you suddenly don’t care that this isn’t perfect and he really fucking sucks at the tongue tango because it’s perfect. Egbert and his goddamn stupid ass naivety is perfect and you think he’s perfect. You wonder if he feels the same.

Well shucks buster, he’s the one macking on you like the worlds gonna end. You’d assume so.

You hope so.


End file.
